


Confession of A Werepuppy

by hogwarts_chronicles



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-05
Updated: 2011-04-05
Packaged: 2017-10-17 15:06:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/178127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hogwarts_chronicles/pseuds/hogwarts_chronicles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ini adalah cerita karya Illyria Pffyffin, ditulis sebelum buku HP5 keluar. Belum ketahuan nama tengah Remus, apakah Remus halfblood atau pureblood atau muggle-born, jadi semua masih imajinasi penulis</p><p>Sila membaca XD</p>
            </blockquote>





	Confession of A Werepuppy

**Illyria Pffyfin** mengambil sehelai daun dari pohon cerita dan mulai menulis dengan pena bulu burung unta dan tinta hijau zamrud.

 

  
**CONFESSIONS OF A WEREPUPPY**   


 

I had always wanted a dog. My muggle friend Andrew had three: Coco, a great Collie; Duke, a Saint Bernard the size of a baby cow, and Ben, a really shaggy German Shepherd. I used to come to Andrew’s place and play with them. They knew me and loved me as much as they did Andrew. Whenever I came, they welcomed me uproariously, barking, licking and wrestling me to the ground. I could spend a whole day with them, chasing them, playing ball with them, I was simply nuts about them. I even volunteered to feed and walk them. I loved them so much.

 

The problem was that in my own house, dogs were taboo. I couldn’t remember not whining to my parents (and you know how humiliating it was for a nine year old boy to whine like a baby, but I was really desperate) whenever my birthday or Christmas was near. I don’t know how many times I refused another set of gobstones and exploding cards, miniature Silver Arrow, Chocolate Frog and Levitating Sherbet or any kind of sweets, and all sorts of Dr Filibuster No Heat Fireworks. ALL I WANT WAS A DOG!!! Just one, that would have been enough. But Mum and Dad were adamant.

 

“Remus,” said Dad impatiently when for the umpteenth time I begged him for a dog. “You know Mum is allergic to dog fur. You know perfectly well what’d happen when Mum starts sneezing.”

 

It was true. Every time I came home form Andrew’s, it was Dad who welcomed me at the gate. With his wand he cleaned up every bit of dog fur sticking to my t-shirt and jeans. Only when he had done that thoroughly and was absolutely certain no trace of dog fur was left, he would let me into the house.

 

I would never forget the first time Mum took off my clothes when I had just been to Andrew’s. She started sneezing uncontrollably, and oddly enough, all her sneezes worked like a spell. All of a sudden our carpet started to seethe, the dining table cracked into two, the dish rack shook and bowls and plates fell and broke on the floor. The stove blazed and the kitchen faucet was turned into a water fountain. It was all very funny for me, but not so for my parents. Unluckily, it was also the reason why I could never have a dog.

 

Until one day, Coco had several puppies. They were incredibly cute. Andrew’s mum offered one for me.

 

“I know how much you love dogs, Remus,” she said. “I'm sure you will take good care of Coco’s puppy.”

 

Needless to say, I was sorely tempted. But then I remembered Mum and Dad. I hung my head and muttered disappointedly, “Thanks. But we really can’t have dogs at home. My mum is allergic to the fur.”

 

I went home feeling tremendously gloomy. After the usual fur inspection in the yard, I went up to my room and lay down on my bad, imagining all the fun things I could do with my very own dog.

 

Around seven, Mum knocked on my door. “Remus, dinner time.”

 

“Not hungry, Mum,” I said without spirit.

 

Mum went in and sat on my bedside. “What’s the matter?”

 

”Nothing,” I murmured.

 

Mum looked so worried. “Well, you know I cook your favourite mushroom chicken tonight,” she said. “You never could resist it before, so there has to be something seriously wrong here.”

 

I sat up and looked at her. “Mum,” my voice was trembling, I was that near to tears. I knew that I was way past the cry-baby age, but I really wanted that dog. “Andrew’s mum said I could have one of Coco’s puppies. Can I Mum? I promise that we won’t make you sick. I’ll sleep outside with the dog, I won’t go into the house. You can just toss me some food. I can shower with the garden hose. I promise that you won’t be ill. So, can I, Mum? Please?”

 

Mum sighed. For one glorious moment I thought that she would relent. But then she shook her head. My blood rushed into my head, flooding my brain with red, hot anger.

 

“Why are you so selfish?” I yelled. “Just because of your stupid allergy I couldn’t have the only thing I really wanted in the world! You’re so mean…so…so cruel!”

 

As usual, whenever I was angry, my unhoned magic power burst forth. The window glass shattered and my wardrobe mirror shrieked in pain.

 

“All you think about is yourself and your nose!” I ranted on. “You’re my mother! You should be thinking about my happiness, not the furniture breaking when you sneeze!” Two of my storybooks on the shelf fell down and scrambled out of the room. The three books who were left on my desk started to smoulder.

 

Mum’s face had turned very pale. She stood up, gazing at me for a long time. For a while I almost believed that she had changed her mind. I had thought wickedly that it was perfectly OK to hurt her feelings just this once, all that mattered was that I could get the dog. I could be the sweetest kid on earth afterwards.

 

But Mum simply took out her wand and murmured,”Reparo!” The glass on my window was restored and my books stopped burning. Then Mum turned around and left my room. Once again I was alone in the room, listening to my mirror moaning.

 

Long afterwards, when I couldn’t stand the hunger anymore, I sneaked downstairs. The lights in the living room were still on. After making a sandwich in the kitchen I tiptoed back to my room. But something made me stop near the living room. I could hear Mum sobbing.

 

“It’s all right, Helen,” I heard Dad spoke soothingly. “Don’t mull on it too much. Remus was only angry, he didn’t mean to hurt you.”

 

“But he was right, Orion, I was only thinking about myself. I wasn’t ready to sacrifice anything for him,” sobbed Mum. My throat suddenly became so tight and painful. I slumped to the floor, all my appetite gone. “I should’ve allowed him to have a dog. I could tolerate a bit of sneezing as long as he’s happy.”

 

Now it was my eyes that hurt. I bit my lip so I wouldn’t start bawling.

 

“Helen,” said Dad huskily. “If you have to suffer, I will never be happy. Don’t you think that I want Remus to be happy? But if it means that you have to suffer…”

 

“Oh, Orion,” said Mum.

 

I couldn’t stand it anymore and ran to the backyard. I sat near the hedge, feeling very ashamed and angry at myself. I used to think that my parents were selfish and mean. Now I realized that I was the one who was spoiled and self-centred.

 

My reverie was broken by a low growl. Two sparkling eyes were staring right at me from the corner of the garden, reflecting the full moon in the sky. I stood up very slowly and inched my way towards the growling. It was a dog, huge, with long snout, dark grey fur and white neck and bib. It snarled at me, showing long, pointed fangs, drooling streams of saliva from the corners of its mouth, its fur bristling.

 

I was a bit scared of it at first. It didn’t look anything like Coco, Ben and Duke who were cheerful and friendly. But…a dog! In my garden! Maybe I had just frightened it. Maybe it was simply a hungry stray. I squatted carefully, holding out the chicken and cheese sandwich in my hand.

 

Then suddenly… The dog lunged at me. When it loomed over me, I realized just how huge it was. Then I felt a stab of pain in my shoulder, a pain that flashed through my body like fire.

 

“Muuummm!!! Daaaaddd!!!”

 

The pain blinded me…the dog shook its head viciously from side to side…tearing my shoulder apart…cold darkness gathered round my mind which was blunted by the pain…I was close to blacking out…or was it death?

 

“Remus!” Mum’s voice seemed to come from so far away. “Orion! It’s a werewolf!”

 

“Argento municcio!” Dad’s voice boomed along with a blinding spurt of silvery light. There was a yelp of pain and the fangs on my shoulder loosened its excruciating grip before they finally let go. I crumpled to the ground.

 

“Oh, Remus, Remus, my Remus,” Mum held me, and as her tears dripped on my face, I opened my eyes. “Hold on, Sweetheart, we’re going to…achoo!!! (the hedge next to me was set on fire)…take you to St Mungo…achoo!!! (two gnomes ran out of their hole, holding the egg-sized lumps on their heads). You’ll be all right…achoo!!! (a porcupine in the corner suddenly lost all of its spines, which had dropped off all at once). Hang on, love…achoo!!! (six tadpoles suddenly turned into big, full-grown toads).”

 

The doctor at St Mungo was very nice and patient (especially to Mum). He instantly healed the wounds gaping in my shoulder. But his face was serious when he talked to Mum and Dad about the effect of a werewolf bite.

 

“There is no known potion or spell to undo it. If a person were bitten by a werewolf, he would turn into one come next full moon. He would be fierce, uncontrollable.”

 

”Oh, Remus…achoo!!! (two scalpels, two pairs of scissors, a pair of tweezers and two clamps on the tray jumped up and started marching),” Mum held me close, weeping all over my hair.

 

”My suggestion is, get rid of all your silverware,” the doctor went on. “You know that all sort of silver things are dangerous for a werewolf. And when the full moon is approaching, locked this kid in a safe place. Give him the strongest sleeping potion you can come up with, though I can’t guarantee that it can suppress the aggressive nature. But at other times, I can assure you that he would behave normally and could be allowed to play as usual.”

 

“Oh, Remus, Remus…achoo!!! (the curtain turned into long strands of orchid leis)…what would become of you now?” mourned Mum wretchedly. “No school would accept you…achoo!!! (the pillow burst open and goose down floated all over the room).”

 

The doctor handed Mum a piece of tissue and Mum blew her nose noisily into it. “But don’t worry, Darling,” she went on, stroking my head. “Even if no school would admit you, we will teach you all we know…achoo!!! (the doctor’s white coat was now decorated with purple polka dots). You’ll be just fine, my love, you’ll be a great wizard someday, I promise you that…achoo!!! (the doctor’s magiscope turned into an iguana).”

 

And so started my first days as a werepuppy. At first I noticed nothing peculiar. Everything was the way they were before The Bite, only now Andrew’s dogs would growl at me and stay away from me, always circling around Andrew as though protecting him from me.

 

But the normality shrunk steadily as the moon slowly became fuller and fuller. Mum started to go off food. Dad asked for a leave from his office and stayed for a long time in the basement, fitting bars on the windows and door and removing all sharp objects.

 

Then came that weird Sunday afternoon. I knew that Mum had been crying and Dad had lost nights of sleep. They were so tense, that I preferred to stay away from them lest I caused Mum another spell of crying. I played in my room all afternoon, wondering what made turning a werewolf such a serious, dreadful business for my parents. I’ve read books about wolves and privately I liked them. To me they were nothing more than bigger versions of dogs. They had close family ties, hunted in packs and shared the food, and I admired that. Really, I thought my parents should be more sensible about the whole thing. They could’ve even rejoiced a bit, I reckoned. After all, I would able to look for my own food. Wolves are reputedly good hunters.

 

Mum called me down for tea. I noticed that my tea looked oily and greener than usual.

 

“Mum, did you put something in my tea?” I asked.

 

Mum choked on her tea and looked at Dad. She looked at me and almost immediately her eyes were filled with tears, her lips trembled and she couldn’t speak.

 

“Just drink your tea, son,” said Dad quietly.

 

I tasted it a bit. It was horrible, like overcooked spinach and rotten apple. I spluttered and put down my cup. “Sorry, I don’t like it.”

 

“Drink it, Remus,” said Dad firmly, his face cold and expressionless. I recognized it. It was the face Dad wore whenever he was angry. Personally, I saw no reason why he should be mad at me. Maybe it was just all this perplexing business of turning into a werewolf. My parents were clearly agitated about the whole thing.

 

I had no alternative. Besides, I hated to make Mum sob harder than she already did. I took my cup and drained it, shuddering and feeling extremely sick.

 

“Good lad,” muttered Dad. And now his eyes were misty with tears too.

 

There were sandwiches and cakes on the table but none of us touched them. My parents stared at me miserably until I couldn’t stand it anymore and asked to be excused from the table.

 

Back in my room, I lay on my bed and watched the sky getting darker. I didn’t know when I fell asleep. But when Dad came, it was already dark outside. Dad picked me up and carried me downstairs.

 

“Huh? What’s the matter, Dad?” I muttered drowsily.

 

“Ssh, Remus,” whispered Dad. “Get back to sleep, son.”

 

I slept on for I didn’t know how long. When I finally woke up, I found myself on the floor in the basement. I looked around in the darkness, terrified.

 

“Mum!” I called out. “Dad?”

 

I thought I heard Mum wept upstairs, but I wasn’t sure. All of a sudden I felt sharp, stabbing pain spreading all over my body, as though red hot pins had been stuck into my skin. My hands and feet jerked in painful spasms. Every one of my muscle throbbed and buckled in great waves of pure agony. My insides boiled. My mouth felt as if I had just eaten handfuls of thorns. I writhed and convulsed on the floor, great drops of tears squeezed from between my tightly screwed eyelids. The pain was so enormous, so overwhelming, so paralyzing… I drew a shuddering breath into my burning lungs and let out a …

 

…howl.

 

It was eerie, terrifying, alien. It didn’t sound remotely human. It scared me and I cried even more. The wild howls filled the basement, seeped into my tortured brain and drowned me in utter terror.

 

I tried to call my parents. I heard only that maddening howl again. I tried crying for help. And again only the long, chilling howl came out. I stopped trying and whimpered in confusion instead. I thought I sounded a bit like a frightened puppy.

 

The pain had somewhat subsided. But now I realized with panic that not only was I losing my voice, I also lost control of my body. In fact I felt myself disappearing altogether, and something unknown was replacing me. It was dark, like a shadow; blurred, like a wakened dream. I couldn’t understand it. It was closed to me. But I could feel its mind. It was simple and straightforward.

 

It…or I…smelled humans. Flesh. Food. It was also terrified. It didn’t like the basement. I felt trapped. I wanted to go out and run. I think about pine trees and open spaces. Not here, not here…

 

No! I screamed inside my head. This is my home, my body! Go away! I need to get away. this place smells of danger. Then I realized that for several seconds the wolf and I had thought together, there was no boundary between the wolf and myself. It was frightening. I screamed and there was that howl again.

 

The urge to escape got stronger. I scratched the window frantically, sniffed every corner, tried to climb up the walls, went up and down the stairs, my sharp nails scarred the wooden door when I scratched it.

 

Finally, exhausted, I lay down and fell asleep. I woke up desperately hungry and tried looking for food. There were mice in the basement, I hunted them down, caught one and ate it. The smell of blood on the warm body of the mouse was oddly satisfying.

 

But when I licked the blood splattering the floor, I realized that it was revolting, nauseating. I felt so disgusted at myself that I wanted to die. I clawed at my skin, rolled on the floor and hurled my body at the wall many times in frustration.

 

I don’t know, I don’t want to remember what happened or how long it all had taken. I do remember missing my parents much while the wolf was thinking about its pack. I remembered waking up to find a great slab of cooked steak on the floor one morning and devouring it to the last bit. I thought I heard Mum’s voice saying to Dad, “He’s hurt himself, he’s wounded, he needs me…” And then Dad’s voice, “He’s not Remus, Helen…” I remembered feeling very sad when I heard this, as though Dad had disowned me. But the wolf didn’t know my parents. It didn’t care. I didn’t care. Then I started to find a way out again.

 

One morning I woke up feeling very sore all over as though I had been sick for a long time. I felt extremely tired and sleepy. But I saw the door at the top of the stairs opened just a crack and Dad’s anxious face peered in, his wand sticking below it, a thin beam of light from the Lumos spell illuminating my body.

 

Then I heard his voice, full of relief, “It’s all over, Helen. He’s back.”

 

“Dad?” I called out weakly. It was my voice again.

 

The door swung open and Mum ran down the steps two at a time. She knelt beside me and held me so tight that I couldn’t breathe.

 

“Oh, Remus, Remus, Remus…” she murmured, rocking me back and forth. She gasped when she touched the wounds all over my body where I had scratched and bitten myself in fury. Her tears streamed. And she also sneezed violently, dozens of time. The basement walls changed colour nine times and two mice was frozen mid-sprint and golf balls came out of nowhere and the bars in the window turned into green Jell-O and then into yellow ribbons and Mum was crying all the time and she looked so exhausted from not sleeping, from sneezing, from weeping, that I felt so very sorry and I cried too. Finally, Dad had to take her away before he could take me up to my room.

 

Mum came when Dad had cleaned me up. Her nose was swollen and red, her face pale. She sat beside me, kissed me and caressed my face.

 

“I'm sorry, Mum,” I whispered.

 

“Ssh,” she put her forefinger on my lips and tried bravely to smile. “Want something to eat?”

 

I shook my head. “Just stay here,” I pleaded, holding her hand.

 

She stayed by my bedside until I fell asleep. She sneezed many times, making my mirror laughed because it felt tickled and changing my blanket into a pool of chocolate pudding. But she stayed.

 

It was my mother’s greatest sacrifice. She was extremely allergic to dogs, but she had a werewolf for a son, and she stuck by me through everything. Whenever the world seems to be ganged up against me, I will always recall that scene, after my first full moon: Mum, her nose swollen, sneezing every ten seconds, holding my hand. If she could do it, then I too, can do anything.

 

 

ΩΩΩ


End file.
